


Not What It Was Before

by Crowgirl



Series: Scars Remind Us [57]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Plot Advancement Playhouse, Wait for it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 13:27:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowgirl/pseuds/Crowgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ongoing discussion, and ramifications thereof, between Dean and Castiel about the after-effects of Hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not What It Was Before

LVII.

Any other time, and Dean might think this spot was quite pretty. It’s quiet, the air’s clear, there’s a scatter of scrubby brush around, but nothing to impede the view out over the desert back towards the Utah state line.

They’d driven most of the way but had to walk the last half-mile or so to the flattened top of the butte. They’d gotten there a couple of hours before the sun went down and, since he and Sam didn’t have a lot to do with the prep, the two of them sat on the edge of the rock and watched the sun go down.

They didn’t talk, listening to Bobby and Cas working on the trap behind them, the scratch of something hard and metallic on rock, Bobby swearing once. A couple of times, Dean thinks Sam’s about to say something but he never does and they sit in silence.

The air chills quickly after the sun goes down. Bobby digs out two large flashlights and the beams cut through the gathering dark, slicing out into the dusty air like solid things. Dean watches the first low-hanging, bright star spark out over a line of mountains miles away. 

‘Hey, Sam,’ Bobby calls. ‘We need your flask.’

Sam claps Dean on the shoulder as he pushes himself up and then he’s gone.

Dean stays where he is, shrugged deep in his leather jacket, looking out over the empty space below and in front of him. He hears the quiet murmur of voices behind him and knows he should probably be helping but he can’t muster the energy to get up. It isn’t so much that he’s tired as -- just maybe if he sits here, really quietly, the universe will...give up. Give them a free pass. No more torture, no more working against the clock, no more stupid last-ditch plans, no more...this kind of shit. Maybe the sky will just open and God will look down and say, ‘Good job, guys. We’re gonna give the rest of it a miss. Head home.’ 

‘Yeah, right,’ he mutters to himself and lets his head drop into his hands.

‘It will be all right, Dean.’

He doesn’t jump this time, just leans slightly to one side so he can look up at Castiel kneeling beside him. ‘Y’know, when I say that to you--’

The angel has the good grace to look slightly embarrassed but says nothing.

‘Yeah, well...’ Dean sighs and looks back out into darkness. ‘I could do it, Cas. You know I could.’

The angel is silent for so long that Dean starts to think maybe -- just maybe--

‘That is not the point. Whether or not you could do this and survive...’ Castiel’s voice fades into thoughtful silence, then he goes on. ‘You take so many risks, Dean. As if you were the only one who could face danger or--’

‘Cas, that’s not--’ That all sounds bad and Dean twists around, trying to forestall what feels like a last-minute lecture on risk-taking behavior. The broad beam from one of the flashlights catches half of the angel, leaves the rest of him in darkness and Dean has to squint to make out his face. Castiel isn’t looking at him. Instead, his eyes are focussed out over the edge of the sandstone, past the desert, to something in the far distance Dean can’t even see. 

‘--or as if you are expendable, a resource to be used until you expire.’ Castiel goes silent again and Dean can’t think of a fucking thing to say. What do you say to something that’s so fucking self-evident it isn’t even worth saying?

Castiel looks back down at him, tilting his head slightly. ‘As if no-one would miss you, were you to die.’

‘Cas--’

‘I will not allow you to be the only one to take such risks.’

‘And you figure _I’ll_ do so fucking well if you--’ He can’t say the next word. His throat closes on it and he glares out into the gathering darkness, willing himself not to fucking cry. Why had he even bothered to argue when Sam pointed this out _months_ ago?

Castiel’s hand settles gently on his shoulder and rests there for a minute before pulling him back, turning him so he and the angel are face to face. Castiel is watching him, _seeing_ him in that way that used to make Dean want to hide under the nearest heavy object and now--

‘I will not leave you if there is any way for me to stay.’ Castiel’s voice is soft and Dean wants to grab him and hug him and not let go until this stupid shit decides to give up and go the hell away.

He swallows hard and reaches up, settling his hand along the curve of Castiel’s throat. ‘If you die...’ He has to stop again and Castiel waits patiently. ‘You die and I am gonna come the fuck after you. Heaven, Hell, Jersey -- I don’t give a shit. Got that?’

The corner of Castiel’s mouth twitches up and he leans forward, pressing a soft kiss onto Dean’s mouth and breathes words against his lips: ‘I understand.’

**Author's Note:**

> From "So Far Away," Staind, _The Singles 1996-2006_.


End file.
